


Wandering in the Dark

by kiranightshade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Season/Series 01, Chronic Illness, Hospitals, M/M, Peter Hale Bites Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Sick Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Stiles has muscle dystrophy and meets Peter Hale in the hospital. His condition is worsening fast and Peter still got a few years to wake up.





	Wandering in the Dark

Stiles knew it was only a matter of time, but he was still surprised when he lost the ability to stand on the way to school. 

He’s been a frail kid for as long as he can remember. The doctors do what they can for him, but he knows the realities of his situation, no matter how much his dad tries to hide it from him. Chances are he’ll die before he turns thirty. Even if they were able to afford to keep him on a respirator, it would only do so much. 

Stiles manages to get his nurse to let him loose in a wheelchair while the other adults argue over what to do with him. He can still use his arms, and he’s going to enjoy that for as long as he can. 

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his destination. For the past year, he’s been visiting a man named Peter Hale whenever he finds himself back at the hospital. He’s one of the three survivors of the Hale Fire, and the only one still in Beacon Hills. 

“Hey, Peter. It’s good to see you again.”

Peter doesn’t answer, but Stiles didn’t expect him to. Peter only came out of his coma recently, and has been catatonic ever since. Stiles wheels over to where’s he’s lying on his bed, his head a few inches above his pillow. The burns covering half his face and right arm have healed enough for Stiles to take his hand between his palms without hurting him. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit as often, but it looks like I’ll be here even more now so I guess it’ll balance itself out.” Stiles leans forward, resting his elbows on the mattress. “Doesn’t look like anyone else has been here.” 

The room is as empty and lifeless as it’s always been. No signs of life save for the occasional flowers Stiles leaves for him. The vase is empty. 

“Guess I’ll need to convince dad to buy more flowers. He won’t let me go out and pick any.” Stiles lets out a self-depreciating laugh. 

“There you are,” his dad says behind him, making him jump. “Come on. Dr. Barnes needs you.”

 

*** 

 

Peter’s interrupted from his nightmares by the cool touch of someone fiddling with his hair. He clings to that feeling, and awareness tickles his senses. He can smell a human boy nearby in the darkness. He’s hurting, but the scent of it is ingrained into him. He vaguely recalls the hospital, and nurses who are rough with his person. A chronic illness then. He wonders what someone like that is doing with him. 

“We couldn’t afford anything at the store, but I got a kid at school to pick something for you. They’re not as pretty, but I think you’d like them. What with your old house being in the woods and all.”

Peter wants to see the boy talking to him, wants to reach out and ask what’s going on, but then the smell of home invades his senses and all he can hear is children crying and the Argent woman’s laugh.

 

*** 

 

Stiles isn’t allowed to visit Peter anymore. He hates it. 

His dad tries to explain why, but Stiles refuses to look at him until he gets mad and leaves. Stiles knows why. They don’t want him to leave their sight because everyone is scared. They don’t want him to bother Peter. They think he’s hurting him, like when the flowers hurt him. He knows he isn’t hurting him. His last remaining family abandoning him to move to New York are hurting him. The nurse who doesn’t bother to be gentle is hurting him. Stiles doesn’t know if he’s helping him, but he knows he isn’t hurting him. 

Stiles lays there alone, thinking about a book he read that said humans needed social contact. He imagines he can hear the steady beat of Peter’s heart on the monitor, but he knows it’s his own. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles managed to stay at home by taking online courses, and getting his dad to learn the daily exercises his physical therapist would have had to perform every morning. He still had appointments regularly, but it’s better than leaving his dad on his own. He knew he would live at the sheriff’s station and have a heart attack at forty if he were left to his own devices. 

He attempted to sneak into Peter’s room a few times, but he was caught every time and then he was too weak to try. 

What few friends he had forgot him. There was a girl with epilepsy that he sometimes talked to at the hospital named Erica, but after a while she shied away from him and he never found out why. 

Stiles lost the ability to write when he finally convinced his dad to set him up for life insurance. It was a long battle with his dad’s denial. He still had hope they would be able to cure him, but Stiles won’t let him lose everything in hospital bills and funeral costs. 

Stiles was sent to the long term care ward at Beacon Memorial when he stopped being able to trust his lungs when he slept. He had just turned sixteen.

 

*** 

 

Peter becomes numb to the sound of screaming. He plans while his life burns around him on repeat. He knows he isn’t the man he used to be. He wonders if his sister’s children would like who he’s become. 

Ultimately, he doesn’t care. They left him. They didn’t even move him to a different hospital under a false name. Every second spent at Beacon Memorial is another second any hunter could walk in and finish the job. He is helpless. He refuses to stay that way.

Hunters murdered his family, his pack. There were children in his pack. There were humans in his pack. They were peaceful, even owned the land they ran on. It never matters, and Talia would never listen to his many warnings. Hunters will always break the code. Best to do away with Talia’s idealistic naivety and start fresh. New alpha. New pack. New Everything. And without a single hunter in town.

Peter regains full awareness on a full moon. His first thought is that his nurse is not very good at her job. She doesn’t tell anyone he’s awake. She sees him shift into his beta form and thinks to manipulate him into giving her power. She helps him lure an alpha werewolf to town. She doesn’t tell him who that alpha was. 

Laura, Talia’s precious successor, lays dead beneath him in the leaves and the dirt. She was always a brat, but he never wanted this. The power of an alpha flows through him. It heals him, but it feels wrong. In the rush, he is only able to stop it from healing his scars. He isn’t able to resist the urge to fully shift into a wolf for the first time. 

He runs, reason lost, until he comes across the lake they used to camp at every summer. A wolf is not what greets him in the water. 

He is a twisted form of what he could have been. Large and bulking, his fur is patchy. His features distorted. He reminds himself of the old wolfman movies. He looks like a monster. 

Leaves rustle. He gives chase. 

 

*** 

 

Peter holds onto his rational mind as much as he can. If a feral beast was able to take down the Argent Clan, then they would’ve died out a long time ago. 

His nephew comes back when news of his sister’s death reaches him. Derek isn’t the arrogant boy he used to know. He wonders if this stranger would work with him. Derek promises to find the rogue alpha who killed Laura, and take vengeance. Peter wonders where this righteous anger was six years ago. He lets him leave none the wiser. 

 

*** 

 

Kate Argent comes back to town when all of her accomplices are laying dead with his pack’s insignia carved into them or around them. Peter knows he cannot kill her alone. 

The rest, they were just humans. They didn’t know about werewolves or hunters or codes. They were just a handful of arsonists and officials. Gerard trains his children to kill the moment they can walk. 

It is laying in the quiet of the hospital that he remembers the boy who smelled of pain, the one with the cold hands. He can give him the bite, heal whatever is wrong with him, and gain a loyal beta. He hopes the boy is still alive. He thinks that day was a few years ago. 

He wandered the halls on the odd chance that the boy was still at the hospital. It’s difficult to follow a scent trail in such a public building, especially one that always smells of cleaning supplies and sickness. He was considering hunting down his nurse for help when he senses it. 

The boy is asleep when he finds him, his breath stuttering. He’s a skinny kid, sixteen according to his file. His name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. ‘Stiles’ is written to the side as his preferred name. Peter can see why. He can’t imagine many can pronounce his polish name. 

Stiles’ eyes are open when he looks up. His heartbeat doesn’t rise. 

“Peter,” he says softly, “It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit more often.” 

Stiles smiles. “You’ve been busy.”

“You noticed?”

“I don’t get out much, but I’ve still got the news. You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“The news has reported animal attacks the last I checked.”

“I know a vendetta when I see one.”

“Clever boy,” Peter says fondly.

“Why did they do it?”

The light atmosphere evaporates, leaving heavy anticipation in the air. 

“Bigotry and a sense of authority.”

“Sounds like a ticking time bomb.”

Peter chuckles breathlessly. “Yeah. That’s what I said. But now I’m in charge, and I’m making sure it never happens again.”

“You going to tell me what I’m missing?”

“I’m going to do a lot more than that.”

 

*** 

 

Stiles believes Peter when he says he can cure him after he shifts in front of him. Stiles looks into those glowing red eyes and knows that Peter would do everything he promised if he said yes. He would bite him and make him strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be with or without his condition. He doesn’t take it, much to Peter’s dismay. 

“You’ll die, Stiles. I can already hear how your heart struggles to beat.” 

That surprises Stiles. The monitor hasn’t given any indication towards an irregular heartbeat, but he doesn’t question it. He supposes a werewolf would have better hearing. 

“I have my reasons,” Stiles says instead of how he doesn’t have health insurance but he does have life insurance. He doesn’t want to argue. 

Peter looks lost in thought for a moment, and Stiles knows exactly what he’s thinking. 

“Don’t you dare, Peter.” Stiles says as sternly as he can. “Bite me and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He deflates at that. Stiles reaches out to him, his arm shaking from the strain. Peter is quick to take his hand. His hands are warm around his. It’s comforting. 

“There’s a girl,” he says, “She would accept the bite in a heartbeat.”

Peter makes a questioning noise. Stiles continues before he can speak. 

“You need help, right? She’s got a lot of aggression that’s been buried for years. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to help the man who took her epilepsy away. Just…do right by her. Don’t just toss her aside once your vengeance is met.”

“I know what it’s like to be abandoned by your alpha. This isn’t a gift I give lightly.”

“Erica Reyes. Her name is Erica Reyes. Smart wolf like you ought to be able to find her with that.”

Peter stands to press a light kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, Stiles. I’ll be back to visit as soon as Kate is dealt with.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything as he leaves. 

 

*** 

 

The next time he sees Peter is after Kate Argent is found dead in the ruins of the old Hale House. She’s surrounded by evidence of fires all over the country plus the deaths of all the animal attacks in Beacon Hills. 

Peter Hale wakes up not long after. He doesn’t have any muscle atrophy to stay for, and nobody is willing to question it for fear of his miracle being taken away. He’s properly dressed in new pants and a red button-up shirt when he knocks on his door.

“He’s alive,” Stiles teases. 

“All because of you.” 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything.” Peter says seriously. “I don’t think you understand just how important you are.” Peter sits facing him on the mattress by his hip. “Stiles, do you know where I was when you came to me? I was reliving the fire over and over again. I was going mad. I can remember the raving about purging Beacon Hills of all supernatural creatures and starting over. I remember wanting to murder Kate’s family like she did mine. She has a niece who doesn’t even know werewolves exist, let alone how to kill one. I would have killed her if you hadn’t anchored me to my humanity.” 

“You make me sound like some sort of hero.” Stiles jokes. Peter doesn’t laugh. 

“Let me bite you. Please Stiles, let me help you.”

“I can’t.”

 

*** 

 

Erica is waiting for him at the car with his nephew who looks like he’d very much like to punch something, but he always looks like that these days. Erica brightens when he comes into view. 

“Did he take it?” Derek asks tonelessly. 

Peter storms past them, just shy of stomping like a child. They scramble after him when he slams the car door shut and starts the engine. 

“I told you he wouldn’t take it,” Erica says. “He’d rather die than live and leave his dad buried in debt over him.” 

Peter freezes, and slowly takes his hand of the shifter. “Erica, is there something you would like to share with the class.”

“Well, his mom used up their savings when she got frontal temporal dementia, and she had insurance from her work. The sheriff’s department isn’t so generous, so Stiles is banking on his life insurance paying for his medical bills. Can’t exactly do that if he doesn’t die.” 

Erica shrugs like this isn’t game-changing information. 

Peter takes a deep breath, and forces his next words to be very level. “Erica, I think it’s time we showed you the Hale Vault.”

 

*** 

 

“You’re an idiot.” His dad says, jolting Stiles awake. 

Stiles wipes the crust from his eyes to see Peter scowling down at him. 

“Wha’ this ‘bout?”

“I cannot believe you’d let yourself die when you have the chance to cure yourself. Do you really think I’d rather get paid than see my son alive?”

“Stiles, what do you think being an alpha means?” Peter says. “I can pay off your hospital bills a hundred times over. Do you really think I’d let my own beta live in poverty?”

“You are taking the bite,” his dad orders. “You’re going to live, and you’re going to live well if I have anything to say about it.”

“Lift up his shirt so I can bite his side. There isn’t enough muscle on his arm to bite him safely.”

“Hey, hey, Hey!” Stiles squawks when his dad pulls down his blankets down. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No,” they say in unison. 

And then there are teeth buried in his side, and his dad’s hand clamped over his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written because my English class is all about putting yourself in other people'so shoes in our writing and this is the essay we've been building up to where we pull a disease out of a hat and write a story. I got muscle dystrophy and complete creative control. Unfortunately he did not give us a word count max and i will be turning in a crappy short version later today. This is tailored for my teacher to understand this fic without watching Teen Wolf, because I was definitely taking advantage of the opportunity to get a grade on a fanfic, and then until untailored for posting.
> 
> Edit: I got an A!! I'm an "above average writer" acording to my teacher and "very creative".


End file.
